Cyd stared in awe at the bronze palace before him, struck silent by its magnificence. Even when a servant girl approached him, he remained speechless.
"Hello, who are you?" she asked politely.
"I am... um..." Cyd blinked, lost for words. How should he introduce himself? Should he tell her he's here to ask Hephaestus to make an item to protect against the gods' curse? Or that he's a student of Chiron seeking equipment? Both seemed inadequate.
Leaning closer to the maid, he whispered, "I'm am on of Chrion students looking for Hephaestus help"
The maid's expression remained polite. "Who are you?"
Cyd sighed, lowering his head. "I am Cyd, and I have a request for Hephaestus."
The maid hesitated, causing Cyd to worry. But then she said, "Cyd, I see. Please follow me. Hephaestus has mentioned you."
Cyd followed her cautiously into the palace, his curiosity piqued by the many identical maids he saw along the way. "Are these your sisters?" he asked.
"All were created by Hephaestus," the maid replied, pointing to a giant bronze door. "Hephaestus is inside."
"Thank you," Cyd said, not noticing the maid's sudden disappearance as he focused on the door before him.
Taking a deep breath, he pushed against the bronze door. Despite its size, it felt strangely light. The door swung open with surprising ease, slamming into the wall with a resounding crash. Cyd lost his balance and tumbled forward, colliding with something—or someone.
He froze, feeling a soft touch against his face. He should be lying on Hephaestus's leg, but the sensation was too delicate and smooth. A cold sweat slid down his forehead. Hephaestus is a girl?
"You must get up," a somewhat hoarse voice echoed above him.
"Sorry!" Cyd hastily raised his head, seeing Hephaestus's face inches from his own. Her face was beautiful, like a masterpiece, but her left side bore scars resembling flames.
"It's an ugly face, isn't it?" Hephaestus said, self-mockingly.
"I think it's very attractive," Cyd blurted out.
Hephaestus was taken aback. She could discern truth from lies, and Cyd's words were sincere. Unlike other heroes who flattered her to gain her help, this youth, with snow-white hair, spoke honestly.
Hephaestus didn't know how to respond and could only stare at Cyd, who stared back, his brain momentarily blank.
What did I just say? Cold sweat soaked his back. Worse, his hand was still on Hephaestus's thigh! He quickly retracted his hands and stepped back, but Hephaestus leaned forward slightly, maintaining eye contact.
"I understand," Hephaestus sighed. "You can step back a little."
"Uh, yes!" Cyd nodded vigorously, releasing her and stepping back.
"Too far," Hephaestus said, shaking her head and pointing to a spot about a meter away. "Stand here."
"Got it!" Cyd quickly moved to the designated spot and knelt.
Hephaestus stared in surprise. "Why are you doing this?"
"It's not right to overlook a god while sitting," Cyd said, scratching his head awkwardly.
For the first time, Hephaestus was left speechless by a human. In the past, heroes saw her only as a blacksmith who provided weapons, boasting about their tributes but lacking sincerity. This youth was different.
"Human, you irritate me," Hephaestus muttered, supporting her face with one hand. I am a god, a perfect god. Why does he make my heart waver?
Even though his legs trembled, Cyd managed an awkward smile. "How can I make it up to you, great God of Fire Hephaestus?"
"Answer me this," Hephaestus said, smiling slightly. "You know what kind of god I am. My ugly features make people avert their eyes..."
Sorry, I just want to poke out the eyes of those who spread such rumors.
"In the past, these legs were no different from ornaments," Hephaestus continued, gently stroking her slender legs.
Thump...
Despite telling himself to stay rational, seeing Hephaestus's slender fingers trace her beautiful legs made Cyd swallow hard, feeling awkward. Hephaestus noticed his reaction and was even more confused. Why would anyone feel this way about someone disabled?
Not understanding, Hephaestus sighed, holding Cyd's face in her hands. "I think I'll ask my question again."
"?"
Cyd stared up at the bronze palace with wide eyes, completely speechless.
He'd seen temples before—plenty of them. This wasn't a temple. This was a fortress sculpted by lightning and fire, towering over him like a monument to power itself. Every inch of it gleamed with polished bronze that somehow felt alive, pulsing like it had a heartbeat. Even the air tasted like steel and smoke.
So, yeah. He froze.
Even when a girl—barefoot, silver-eyed, and dressed in simple robes—approached, he was too stunned to speak.
"Hello," she said politely. "Who are you?"
"I'm… uh…" Cyd blinked. He should've rehearsed this. Do I say I'm a student of Chiron? That I need a weapon to survive the wrath of the gods?
Neither sounded great.
He leaned closer and whispered like he was confessing a crime. "I'm one of Chiron's students. I'm here to ask Hephaestus for help."
The girl blinked, her expression unreadable. "And your name?"
Cyd hesitated, then gave up. "Cyd. Just Cyd."
A moment of silence passed.
Then she nodded. "Hephaestus mentioned you. Come with me."
Cyd blinked. Wait—he actually mentioned me?
He followed the girl into the palace, trying not to trip over his own feet. Along the way, he noticed more girls identical to her. Clones? Automatons? Magic constructs?
"Are those your sisters?" he asked.
"We were all made by Hephaestus," she replied. Then she stopped in front of a massive bronze door. "He's inside."
"Thanks," Cyd said, distracted by the sheer scale of the door. When he turned back, the girl was gone—no footsteps, no warning. Just… vanished.
Taking a breath, he pressed both palms to the bronze. It looked like it should weigh a ton, but it swung open effortlessly.
And slammed into the wall with a thunderous crack.
Cyd lost his balance and stumbled forward—straight into something soft. Something very not metallic.
He froze.
His head had landed squarely on someone's lap. And judging by the silken warmth under his cheek, that someone was not Hephaestus the crusty forge god he imagined.
"You should get up," said a hoarse, almost weary voice above him.
"Sorry!" Cyd jerked upright, panic flaring in his chest—and stopped dead when his eyes met hers.
Hephaestus was… beautiful.
But not in a traditional, spotless-goddess way. Her features were sharp and striking, like they'd been carved from fire and ash. One side of her face bore scars—evidence of past burns that didn't mar her beauty but deepened it, made it real. And the contrast only made her golden eyes seem more intense.
"You think it's ugly, don't you?" she said quietly, bitterly. A practiced line.
"I think it's… stunning," Cyd said, before he could stop himself.
She blinked. Caught off guard. Hephaestus had heard every kind of compliment before—flattery from heroes, sweetened lies from cowards. But this? This was truth. Raw and clumsy and sincere.
And now Cyd was panicking, because oh gods what did I just say? And even worse—
His hand was still on her thigh.
He flinched back like he'd been burned, cheeks flaming. "Sorry! I— I didn't mean—!"
"Relax," she said, tilting her head slightly. "You can step back. Just not that far."
He'd already retreated halfway across the forge. He shuffled forward again, stopping at the exact spot she pointed to.
"And now you're kneeling?" she asked, mildly amused.
"It felt weird standing over a god," Cyd mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.
She just… stared at him.
For the first time in ages, Hephaestus didn't know what to make of a mortal. Most of them came begging, demanding weapons, offering praise and offerings in exchange for favor. But this one?
This one was awkward, nervous, honest—and maybe a little stupid.
"You irritate me," she muttered, resting her chin on her fist. "Why does a god like me even care what you think?"
Cyd gave a lopsided grin, even though his legs were shaking. "How do I make it up to you, O Great Smith of Olympus?"
Hephaestus smirked slightly. "Let me ask you something. You know who I am. You've heard the stories. My 'ugly' face… these legs people once called useless…"
She trailed her fingers across the smooth metal braces on her legs—delicate and elegant despite the weight they carried.
Cyd gulped. Don't look. Don't react. Be normal. Be respectful.
But his eyes betrayed him for just a second.
Hephaestus caught it. The way his breath caught. The way his jaw tensed like he was holding something back. Confusion flickered in her eyes.
She leaned forward suddenly, cradling his face in her scarred hands.
"I think I'll ask again," she said, voice low.
"Ask what?" Cyd's eyes widened.
"You'll answer… after I punish you."
"EHHHHHH?!"
Cyd stared up at the bronze palace with wide eyes, completely speechless.
He'd seen temples before—plenty of them. This wasn't a temple. This was a fortress sculpted by lightning and fire, towering over him like a monument to power itself. Every inch of it gleamed with polished bronze that somehow felt alive, pulsing like it had a heartbeat. Even the air tasted like steel and smoke.
So, yeah. He froze.
Even when a girl—barefoot, silver-eyed, and dressed in simple robes—approached, he was too stunned to speak.
"Hello," she said politely. "Who are you?"
"I'm… uh…" Cyd blinked. He should've rehearsed this. Do I say I'm a student of Chiron? That I need a weapon to survive the wrath of the gods?
Neither sounded great.
He leaned closer and whispered like he was confessing a crime. "I'm one of Chiron's students. I'm here to ask Hephaestus for help."
The girl blinked, her expression unreadable. "And your name?"
Cyd hesitated, then gave up. "Cyd. Just Cyd."
A moment of silence passed.
Then she nodded. "Hephaestus mentioned you. Come with me."
Cyd blinked. Wait—he actually mentioned me?
He followed the girl into the palace, trying not to trip over his own feet. Along the way, he noticed more girls identical to her. Clones? Automatons? Magic constructs?
"Are those your sisters?" he asked.
"We were all made by Hephaestus," she replied. Then she stopped in front of a massive bronze door. "He's inside."
"Thanks," Cyd said, distracted by the sheer scale of the door. When he turned back, the girl was gone—no footsteps, no warning. Just… vanished.
Taking a breath, he pressed both palms to the bronze. It looked like it should weigh a ton, but it swung open effortlessly.
And slammed into the wall with a thunderous crack.
Cyd lost his balance and stumbled forward—straight into something soft. Something very not metallic.
He froze.
His head had landed squarely on someone's lap. And judging by the silken warmth under his cheek, that someone was not Hephaestus the crusty forge god he imagined.
"You should get up," said a hoarse, almost weary voice above him.
"Sorry!" Cyd jerked upright, panic flaring in his chest—and stopped dead when his eyes met hers.
Hephaestus was… beautiful.
But not in a traditional, spotless-goddess way. Her features were sharp and striking, like they'd been carved from fire and ash. One side of her face bore scars—evidence of past burns that didn't mar her beauty but deepened it, made it real. And the contrast only made her golden eyes seem more intense.
"You think it's ugly, don't you?" she said quietly, bitterly. A practiced line.
"I think it's… stunning," Cyd said, before he could stop himself.
She blinked. Caught off guard. Hephaestus had heard every kind of compliment before—flattery from heroes, sweetened lies from cowards. But this? This was truth. Raw and clumsy and sincere.
And now Cyd was panicking, because oh gods what did I just say? And even worse—
His hand was still on her thigh.
He flinched back like he'd been burned, cheeks flaming. "Sorry! I— I didn't mean—!"
"Relax," she said, tilting her head slightly. "You can step back. Just not that far."
He'd already retreated halfway across the forge. He shuffled forward again, stopping at the exact spot she pointed to.
"And now you're kneeling?" she asked, mildly amused.
"It felt weird standing over a god," Cyd mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.
She just… stared at him.
For the first time in ages, Hephaestus didn't know what to make of a mortal. Most of them came begging, demanding weapons, offering praise and offerings in exchange for favor. But this one?
This one was awkward, nervous, honest—and maybe a little stupid.
"You irritate me," she muttered, resting her chin on her fist. "Why does a god like me even care what you think?"
Cyd gave a lopsided grin, even though his legs were shaking. "How do I make it up to you, O Great Smith of Olympus?"
Hephaestus smirked slightly. "Let me ask you something. You know who I am. You've heard the stories. My 'ugly' face… these legs people once called useless…"
Hephaestus continued, gently stroking her slender legs.
Cyd gulped. Don't look. Don't react. Be normal. Be respectful.
But his eyes betrayed him for just a second.
Hephaestus caught it. The way his breath caught. The way his jaw tensed like he was holding something back. Confusion flickered in her eyes.
She leaned forward suddenly, cradling his face in her scarred hands.
"I think I'll ask again," she said, voice low.
"Ask what?" Cyd's eyes widened.
"You'll answer… after I punish you."
"EHHHHHH?!"